


Not a Fable

by Elsinore_and_Inverness



Category: Discworld, Shakespeare RPF | Elizabethan & Jacobean Theater RPF
Genre: Dr Faustus, Gen, Roundworld, one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsinore_and_Inverness/pseuds/Elsinore_and_Inverness
Summary: Rincewind, of course, is Mephistopheles
Relationships: Christopher Marlowe/Rincewind
Kudos: 11





	Not a Fable

**Author's Note:**

> In the past few days I have:
> 
> -Nearly been struck by lightning*  
> -Accidentally sliced my hand open with a bread knife  
> -And now it’s over 100 degrees F outside
> 
> It’s a Rincewind kind of moment. 
> 
> *it was like a huge net of unraveling rope. it’s incredible how much detail you can take in. The only other times I’ve had time slow down like that were falling from the top of a tree and nearly drowning in class 4 rapids

Rincewind slipped away while the wizards were arguing. He was good at that. He sat down on an upturned cart in the alley outside. He thought Ankh-Morpork probably _had_ smelled as bad as this town back when he was a student. Back before Harry King and Vetinari’s zoning laws.

“Why this is hell, nor am I out of it,” he sighed. At least there were no gray carpets or artificial office plants.  


A young man with a thin mustache and quite a lot of fluffy blond-brown hair turned the corner as he said this. He tapped out the rhythm of the ten words on the hilt of his sword and smiled. 

“How comes it that London to thee is hell?” the young man asked with journalistic curiosity. 

“‘Thee’ is a bit forward, don’t you think?” Rincewind said, absently spinning one of the cartwheels. “This world is full of tortures and dangers. Hell hath no limits nor is it circumscribed. This world has ended and will end in fire and flood and stone and ice a thousand times. Every civilization is doomed. When all the world dissolves no trace will be left. Life is so fragile and so tenacious and right now it’s putting heads on spikes up on the bridge and fearing bugbears and hobgoblins.”

“Oh.” The man was was nearly blushing. He muttered something that sounded like ‘my study at midnight’ stared into space for a few moments, his hand counting out more syllables. 

The man looked back at Rincewind. He looked exactly like Kit Marlowe thought a demon should—long-suffering, beleaguered, carrying righteous anger and deep melancholy. “My apologies if I am being inappropriate, but you are very attractive.”

“What?” Rincewind said, shaking his head. Who was this person? And did he really have to involve the pommel of his sword in counting out beats of poetry? 

_A reluctant demon!_ Marlowe thought as Rincewind ran away. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier? Of course the demon he wrote was going to fall in love at first sight and bring his unfortunate protagonist lots of books. Demons ought to be able to give you any book that had ever existed. That would be nice.


End file.
